Beginnings
by Ditto123
Summary: It's been another tough case. One that gets under your skin and won't let go. He needs something but doesn't know what until it walks through his front door. This is my 1at attempt at writing Fanfic, so any and all feedback would be greatly appreciated.


**BEGINNINGS**

Kelley Kelly

"Damn, this stuff really tastes like shit and it's supposed to be the good stuff. But here I am sittin' on my crappy couch, telling myself it's just what I need to make today right. To make my life right. What is it they say… Beer is cheaper, but liquor is quicker.. Anyway, what was my point'? Did I even have a point? I must have had a point. Hell it doesn't matter. Just another day in Messer's fucked up life.

How many times did the old man try to beat that into my head (literarily)? "Y'er born a piece of shit and you will always be a piece of shit. You bastard son of a bitch, you never should've been born." I've tried so hard to prove him wrong, to prove everyone wrong. Ma always told me not to listen, rise above the pain. She should know, she took her share and then some. I was "special", she said, I could get out, go somewhere. She was the only one that believed in me. I had no idea what she was talkin' about.

Then I found out I had an arm. Louie and I started tossin' the ball back and forth in the alley behind our house to stay out of arm's length of the old man. Suddenly, something clicked. It felt right, it felt so good. Everythin' around me disappeared. The alley, the dirt, the smell from the dumpsters, the Old Man. It was just me and the ball. The booze I'd choked down, the pot I'd smoked, the coke I'd snorted didn't add to up to this. Even getting' to 3rd base (I thought) with Jennifer Jacobs on the old couch in our garage, couldn't beat this. I was oblivious to everything around me. When I had that ball in my hand, I went somewhere else. It didn't matter how many times he threw me to the ground, kicked me down the stairs and beat on me until he was tired. Never even dawned on me why Louie could spit in his eye, call him an asshole, but he was never touched. It was always my fault. I'm the one that fucked up. I'm the one that shut the door too loud. I'm the one who looked at him wrong. I was the one that got between him and my Ma. Better he beat on me then her. He called me a bastard, my Mom a whore. Thought this was normal. Guess what, it's not.

Louie convinced me to try out for my schools baseball team. Coach said I had potential. Louie said it was my way out. It was a start anyway.

What the fuck? How'd I get so off track? Oh yea, whiskey. Tastes like shit. Piss poor shit at that. Anyway, I think you get the point. My childhood sucked blah, blah, blah. Doesn't everybody's? I knew I would have to rise above my "family" name, but not like this. Everybody has their bad days, I'm no different. Certain cases hit closer to home. No excuses here, just one more messed up case. Problem is, even though I've been told I'm doing good, I've "proved" myself, things go to shit. They're all starting to feel the same. The bodies, the families, the reasons why people turn to murder to solve their problems. Heaven knows I ain't no saint, but, I didn't expect to have the crime scenes blend into one, but now they all seem the same. I wanted to make a difference, give families closure. Now I don't know why I keep doing this job.

Another slug of burning amber liquid slides down my throat. This case is closed; the bad guys have been locked away. I look towards my small kitchen window (the only window in the room). The light is creeping through my grimy glass and flimsy curtains. Shut my eyes for just a second or maybe more, I'm not sure. There's the kid from the case, standing in my living room only a few feet in front of me, bloody broken hand pointed at me. Torn clothes covered in blood, bruises and torn skin everywhere, dead eyes staring at me. His small mouth opens and he hisses "WHYyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy". The boy's face turns into mine as a child and I bolt awake to the sound of my own screaming voice. I have no words to explain to the boy or myself. No answers.

I'm covered with sweat, but freezing cold at the same time. Somehow, the whiskey bottle is still firmly gripped in my shaking hand. I take a long drawn out gulp. It doesn't burn as much as it did earlier. There is no way I will be sleeping tonight. The image of that once beautiful boy is still etched on the inside of my eyelids. Another gulp and he's still there. Might as well get comfortable, seems like he's going to be with me for a while.

Something else has been eating at me for a long time now, but I can't do anything about it. How can I tell him how I feel, how I feel about him. Better to say nothing than loose him as a friend. I couldn't make it if I lost him altogether.

Then, just on cue, there's a loud concussion of noise at my door, making me jump and cringe. Why can't he knock on the door like a normal human being? No, he has to kick at the bottom with the toe of his shoe. Somehow he always seems to know when I need him the most. I drag myself up off the couch on unsteady legs and take a couple steps towards the door. Then another few kicks echo through the place. "Hey, Danno! You in there?" I finally make it to the door and fumble with the locks trying to get them open before he starts his barrage again.

I grip the handle and slowly pull the door open and just stare at him. I keep my head down so he can't look in my eyes. I'm sure they look just like the dead kids from this morning. "Whadda ya want Flack? I take a step or two back and open the door more so he can step in. He pushes the door shut with his left foot. At the same time he reaches out and places his hand on the back of my head, just at the bend of me head above my neckline. I flinch; I'm not one for physical contact unless I'm the one initiating it. My head is still tilted down and I didn't see it coming. A slight pressure from the hand and I stumble forward into his chest. He whispers in my ear, "You look like shit. Really bad one today, huh? You okay?" and then even quieter, "Yea, me neither".

His hand at the back of my head is warm and somewhat claustrophobic, but I don't think I want him to let go, ever. There's something grounding about the weight of his hand and the gentle way his fingers curl around the curve of my neck.

I feel and then see his other hand brushing down my arm reaching for the bottle dangling from my fingers. His hand is still on the back of my head. "How much have you had?" "I dunno, not enough?" "Naw, I think you've had more than enough. Come on, let's have seat." The hand drops from my neck to my shoulder and gentle turns me around and steers me towards the couch. For some reason and I can't figure out why, I really miss that hand. I close my eyes and the kid's still there. Not pointing anymore, just staring, watching me. I try not to shudder.

He walks into the kitchen and I hear the sound of something flowing down the kitchen drain. No water is running, so there goes my whiskey. I'm too tired to fight for it. The couch dips next to me and he hands me a glass of water. "Ya gonna look at me, say something maybe?" "Your feet can't be all that interesting." I raise my head some, but still don't look in his direction. We sit that way for a while, Don tapping my glass every now and then, urging me to keep drinking. Finally he sighs, soft and sad, then stands up. He's heading towards the door by the sounds of his footsteps. I finally turn his way and say, "Donnie, please stay. I can't do this anymore. Not alone" He turns, gives me a small smile and says, "That's all I wanted to hear."

I hear the lock and bolts clank shut and shuffling of now shoeless feet across the floor. Suddenly there's another glass of water in front of me as well as a bowl of chips. "Not much of a meal, but there's not a lot food here either and figured you've eaten less than I have today." I nod my head and look at him for a brief second offering what I hope is something similar to a smile. He deserves so much more from me. I grab for a chip or two at the same time he does. My hand jerks back as the side of our hands touch. "It's okay Danno; I'll get my own bowl." I'm such a spaz! Such a total piece of shit! I can't even sum up the guts to tell him not to bother, "I'm just a little jumpy." There's no spit in my mouth to help form the words.

Suddenly I can't sit still. I stumble to my feet and crack my shin on the coffee table. My skin is crawling, itching all over, slick with a sudden onset of sweat. I start pacing back and forth in my small living room, I have to keep moving. All clear thoughts are gone. Only sounds, smells, shades of colors, mostly gray and black, and red, that god awful red. I drag my palms across my eyes and dig my nails into my skin. I don't feel the pain. I can't move fast enough.

I must have been mumbling or something, cause I hear him say, "Who, see who Danny?" At the same time he wraps his long arms around the top of my arms from behind, pinning them to my sides. He pushes a knee into the back of one of mine and forces me down. I try to resist, but I land softly on my knees, Don right behind me in the same position but I'm still trying to pull out of his grip. "Stop, be still. You're shredding the skin off your arms!" His hold tightens. Sure enough, I look down and there's blood running down both arms, but I still feel nothing. More red, God I hate that color! I feel him moving again and this time I don't struggle and we end up in somewhat more comfortable sitting positions. He still has not let me go. For some reason, it's almost okay this time.

"He's here you know?" "The kid from today, he's here." "He followed me home, they all do." A quiet sigh from behind me and then a simple, "Yea?" All I can do is nod and then shake my head back and forth. "Pretty nuts, huh?" "How long has this been going on, the kids "coming" home with you?" "Too long", I say shaking my head." "The job just does that sometimes; gets under your skin and you can't let it go. You know that." "Not like me Don, not like this." "So, tell me about the kid." Simple as that, no flinch, no look of disbelief, no judgment, nothing. He just wants to hear it from me.

His arms drop from around me and he scoots across the floor so he can see my face. I try to look away, but he tucks his head down level with mine and follows me every time I move. I finally give up and lock eyes with him. "He, they're like we find them at the scenes. Beaten, bloody, destroyed. Pointing at me and screaming, askin' why. Then it's me, as a kid, I'm lookin' at. After a while there's no more yelling or pointing, just staring. Then after a night, a day, a week, they're gone, until the next case." He says nothing, just keeps making eye contact and then, "You never told me you had it that bad growing up." "It's over, that's all that matters now, I say." "The kids, that's fucked up. I'm sorry man, you should have said something, asked for my help." I tuck my head again and quietly said, "I did a few minutes ago when I asked you to stay. I know I need help, I need your help."

(And I need to tell you how I feel about you, I think to myself.)

Once again he lifts my chin so our eyes line up again. "Just tell me how I can help you. You've got to talk to me though." "Yea that's me, Mr. Conversation", I say with a smirk. Don really smiles when I say that. God I love that smile. All bright blue eyes and brilliant white teeth. It's even better when I know the smile is because of, or for me. Don drags me back to earth with a tug on my arm. "Let's get off this floor, my ass is killing me." I hadn't even noticed my right leg had gone to sleep. As he pulled me to my feet, the pins and needles start running up my leg. Whether it was the sudden quick movement from the floor to a standing position or the glimpse of the kid staring at me, but I find myself stumble and trip forward onto the floor. I try to get to a standing position again and he is there again to lend me a hand. I was shaky, but I was able finally able to stand on my own. "Think you might need to hit the sack Buddy, but first we need to get those arms cleaned up." I nodded my head in agreement and head towards the bathroom.

He watches while I pull off my filthy shirt and looks at me in a worried way. "Where's your first aid stuff?" I point to a small closet. The scratches are really deep in some places. Gonna have a tough time explaining this at work. He washes both arms, rubs on some antibiotic cream and then rolls gauze on each arm and adds tape to hold everything together. "Do you think you can sleep?" I shrug my shoulders. "At least try to get some sleep Danno, you need it. We'll talk more tomorrow." I watch him walk out of the room, head down, shaking it side to side. I hear something being drug across the floor and see him pulling my arm chair into the doorway of my bedroom. Guess he decided I needed a babysitter for the rest of the night and I'm really glad he does. I crawl into bed and close my eyes and he's there again, the kid. Screaming in pain, just like the sound in my head as I pass out.

What the hell? What's that sound and who keeps shoving at my shoulder? The sound gets louder and more persistent. I finally realize its Flack. "Come on Buddy, are you going to sleep the day away? It's almost noon." "Do you have a problem with it?" I say. "Yea, I do?, he says with that smile. "Sit up and take these and take a shower. I'll try to rummage something up for breakfast. I called you in sick." I look around the room and the boy is gone, no sign of him, as if Flack exorcised him out of my mind during the night. "Don, thanks." He looks at me for a moment and says, "What for?" "Last night, now, everything you put up from me." He simply smiles, nods his head and walks towards the kitchen.

Once I manage my way out into the kitchen I see that Don has cooked up a light breakfast for us. "It's not a lot and I wasn't sure what you liked, so I went bland. He suddenly looks nervous and unsure of himself. I have to smile at his blush and impish grin. "So'k, bland is good. I'll eat what I can." His smile grows larger. We sit and he puts a small amount of eggs and toast on a plate for me and begins to pile much more on his plate. "What", he says, "I'm hungry." We sit in silence while we eat. I manage to get down a small amount of the food on my plate. I actually started to feel a little better. He says something I can't make out. "What," I said. "We really need to talk", he replies. Oh, this can't be good, though I knew it was coming and well past do. I stand up and grab my plate and head towards sink. He reaches out and puts his hand on my wrist. "The dishes can wait." My stomach flips and my hands get all clammy. I mumble out, "Do you want to go to the living room?" "Sure." and the next thing I know, I'm following him to my couch.

"Look D, I can't watch you do this anymore, it's killing me, it's killing you." This is what I was terrified about. He had enough of myself destruction and doesn't want to continue our friendship. He's tired of me draggin' him down with me, cleaning up my messes and doesn't want to waste his time with me anymore. I've been expecting this for months, but wouldn't or maybe couldn't change. I take a seat at the far end of the couch from him and pull my knees up to my chest, wrapping my right arm around them. Don shifts to the middle cushion closest to me. This only makes me more frightened than I was. He looks directly into my eyes. I have a hard time not breaking his gaze. "I can't keep watching you treat yourself the way you do. I know you're fighting some demons, but you can't do it by drinkin' all the time and chasing every skirt you see." Obviously, he hadn't noticed my "skirt" stats lately. Insinuating I have been "dating" isn't actually being honest with him or anyone else at the lab. He clears his throat and suddenly looks as frightened as me. "Even the others at the lab are worried about you." "What, who's talking about me behind my back?" My defenses and anger rise to the surface immediately. I'm on my feet and in front of him before I know it. All I want to do is grab him by the shirt and shake the shit out of him. Make him reveal who is gossiping about me. My temper is something I can't control anymore. When it shows its face, it's fast and ugly. Then the storm rolls out and I'm embarrassed and exhausted with no way to excuse myself. "Dan, sit down, you know you really don't want to hurt me." I hesitate, than let my fists relax and do as I'm told. "Your temper is way out of control, your pale with circles under your eyes, you've lost weight and half the time you walk around like a zombie. You won't let anyone in, not even me." "I asked you to stay last night…" A feeble response I know, but it was all I had. "Why then? Tell me why you wanted me to stay?" I had to think hard about it for a minute or two. I had to be honest with Don and mostly myself. "I didn't want you to leave me here by myself. To be honest, I was afraid of what I might do. You're right; I can't do this on my own anymore. That kid, the way he looked, his eyes open just sent me over the edge I guess. How could I tell anyone that I'm being "haunted" by our victims, especially the kids? I don't know, all I know is I needed you, that you would understand." I dropped my head to my chest, embarrassed.

"Hell Danny, I'll always be here for you, just ask. I'll listen and not judge. You ought to know that by now. How many times have I unloaded on you? Danno, you have to know you're my best friend. I'm here for who you are, good and bad, ghosts and all." He smiles which makes me smile a little too. "But I won't let you keep going on like this." "If I can't help you through this, then we'll find someone who can. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

He's not leaving, not giving up on me. "I know. I just don't want to let you down." "You don't let me down Danny; you scare the shit out of me sometimes. How do I get it through your thick head that you matter to me?" "I know, that is, and I hope you know how you feel about you" I say. He looks at me with an expression I have never seen before on him. "You can't keep going down this self-destructive road." "I know I really do. It's just that I. I mean I didn't want to lay another mess in your lap. You know, like I always do." "I already told ya I'm here for you. When are you going to get that through your thick skull?" He says with a smile.

"If it means anything, I really appreciate you being here for me. It helped last night. It always helps. I didn't have the dreams last night and when I woke up this morning, the boy wasn't there. I can't remember the last time that has happened. I know that it wouldn't have happened if you hadn't been there for me last night and this morning." Don sat quietly listening while I talked with an expression I couldn't quite make out. I figure it was time to take the plunge and throw it out on the table. What did I have to lose at this point, right? "Okay Donnie, here's the other thing. This has been going on with me for a long time. Longer than I can say." His expression goes from before to confusion and maybe fear. I'm looking at the floor instead of him at this point and suddenly I'm thinking' maybe this was not the time to do this. Maybe never actually. I'm finally talking again, but it's only a mumble and I can barely understand what's coming out of mouth. "What? I don't think I quite heard you." After a minute he reaches out and touches my arm, "Just say it man, it can't be that bad." "Harder than you know", I mumble. "I like you." "I like you too Danny, you know that. We've been friends for ages". "It's more than the kids, the job", I say. He looks at me confused. "Danny I" "No, just let me finish, k'?" Good, I feel like I'm back in Junior High School. (I like, like you, do you like, like me?) How lame can I be? "I'm not expecting anything from you and I wouldn't blame you if you just leave, I just need you to know…" "Damn it Danny, just spit it out already. Please." "Like I said, I like you, but it's more than just as friends. I love you." I cringe waiting for his fist to slam into my face, for him to storm out in disgust. Silence, nothing, nada. I look up and there he sits with that shit eatin' grin of his. "Is that so, can you define that for me?" He's killing me here. He has to know that, right? "As in I want a relationship, you and me. You know, more than friends…" I let the unfinished sentence hang in the air and look him in the eye afraid of what I might see. I can't read his expression. I stammer on, "Guess I should have told you though. I'm mean I shouldn't have kept you in the dark for so long and now I lay this on you. I just thought you should know. If you want to leave and not be around me anymore, I really understand. I'll deal with it. I'm sorry I brought it up."

"Danny, give me more credit than that. Do you really think I'd walk away just because you told me you were in love with me? I'm actually very flattered and I'm relieved you told me." "Relieved", I respond. What do you mean by that?" Now I'm really confused. Is he playing games with me? "I'm relieved because I don't have to worry that you wouldn't take it well if I told you how I felt about you. I just didn't know how to tell you and not lose you as a friend. I had no idea you were gay and I decided I would rather have you as a friend or not have you at all."

What? Did he just say that? Then he says, "Takes trying to date to another level doesn't it. Everyone at work sticking their nose into your love life and wanting to set you up with some woman they know is just right for you."

"Close your mouth Messer. Guess you've been thinking about this for some time, huh?" "Maybe, a little," I say. There's that smile I love so much. He snorts and says, "Really, just a little? Because, I've been thinking about it for a long time now." Now it's my turn to smile. I finally find my voice again and say, "So how did two of NY's finest not know about each other?" "Good question Messer, good question" and we both begin to laugh.

"So do you want to go out on a date or something?" I say shyly, but with my best wolfish smile. Why is this so hard? It's just Flack, but Flack at a different level. "I guess we can go out on a date, but haven't we been kinda doing that for years?" he responds with a smirk. "Smart Ass! You don't have to make this harder than it already is." "What makes it so hard? We just need to relax and follow our instinct, that's all."

Don's face becomes serious and he says, "Danny….." "Yea" "We still need to talk more about what's been going on with you." "I know", I answer a bit quieter knowing that he is right. "All I ask is that you be honest with me and not hold back, okay?" I am finally able to look him in the eyes and answer "Okay, but before we do, there's something I need to do first." I take a deep breath and lean forward moving my hand to the base of his neck, pull him forward and then I kiss him. Softer and more tentative then I had intended, but a kiss nonetheless. At first there was no response and I was afraid I had made a terrible mistake, moved too fast. Then I heard a deep sigh and Don was kissing me back. Just as tentative and soft. His lips were soft, full and slightly dry. The kiss was more sweet than passionate, but I had to pull away to catch my breath. We sat there for a moment forehead to forehead. Before I could react he had one strong hand on each side of my face and he was kissing me. This kiss was harder, more desperate, wanting. My hand on the base of his neck snakes up and my fingers curl into his hair pulling gently for purchase. My other hand sliding around his back to his waist and pull him closer. At some point his hands have moved from either side of my face to the small of my back, his fingers tracing circles under the bottom of my beater. Our tongues escape our mouths at the same time tangling together for dominance. He tastes like coffee, mint and simply Donnie. I can't get enough. I don't want it to end. Our teeth click together, tongues and lips are nipped. At one point I think I taste blood. We come up for air a few minutes later both gasping for breath. His face is flushed, pupils blown. I briefly wonder if I look the same. He mutters with that shit eatin' grin of his, "So much for goin' slow Messer." "Yea, well….." I trail off. "Just had to have a little taste what I've been missing all this time." He looks at me kinda serious and says, "Was it worth it." "Oh yea, and then some."

I move in for another kiss and he gently put his hand on my chest holding me in place. I look at him quizzically. He doesn't move his hand but says, "As much as I'm enjoying this and believe me I AM enjoying this, we still need to talk. I don't think we should get too off track here until we sort some things out. You need to start dealing with what you're going through and I want to help, but we can't keep putting it off. And I think now is the best time to start." I can think a million of reasons not to have this conversation now, but cannot put any of them into words. In the end I know he is right. He places his hand at the base of my neck, the place that seems to ground me, make me feel safe and says, "Come on Danny, let's talk."

So I talked. Why I had joined the force, decided to become a CSI. When the cases seemed to began to meld into one except the few that haunted me. We talked some of those through trying to get a handle why those stuck out the most. Talked about seeing somebody outside the force to help figure out that stuff. We talked about maybe discussing things over with Mac, but decided to put that on hold. We talked about letting Don know when things were getting rough before they got out of hand. We talked until I couldn't talk anymore. We were both exhausted and hungry. I decided to take a quick shower to clear my head. When I came out of the bathroom, I could smell the food coming from the kitchen. Don had ordered Chinese from down the street and had the Yankees game paused and ready to go on TV. We ate in silence side by side watching the game except for a few foul words towards the umpire for poor calls based on our opinions.

I woke up to the sound of a strong heart beat in my right ear and two arms wrapped around me protectively. The game was long over. Don was snoring lightly with his chin resting on the top of my head. I didn't want to move, but my right arm was trapped in between us was on fire due to lack of circulation. I had to move it. I tried to move without waking Don, but as soon as I shifted my weight, he practically jumped off of the couch. "What, who, where am I?" I laughed and said, "What, you were asleep on the couch. Who, with me, Danny. Where, at my place." The fog cleared from his sleepy eyes and he said, "Oh yea" and smiled. I grunt and try to move my arm again and finally say, "Could you get up, my arm is dead and I can't move it. It's trapped between us." "No problem." He stands up and stretchs. Mmmmm, nice I think to myself. He holds out his hand and helps me up. I shake my arm and begin rubbing it trying to get the feeling back into it. Slowly the needles and pins stop and it is moving normally. "Let's go to bed", I say. I think I have something that might fit you. I go into my room and rummage through the back of my closet for the small box I'm looking for and there it is. Some things Louie had left when he stayed for a few days when things were better between us. I pull it out and hand Don a pair of cut off sweats and a tee shirt. "These should do it." Don goes into the bathroom to change while I change into my sweats and a clean beater. Don comes out and says "Goodnight." My heart falls to my stomach, did I read too much into what happened when we kissed earlier today? Did what I told him during our talk scare him off? I finally ask to his receding back, "Where are you going?" "Back to the couch, I didn't think, I didn't know if you wanted me to stay in here tonight." "Of course I do. That is if you want to." "Oh, I want to." "Well I'm glad that's settled. And by the way, the right side is mine." He just shakes his head and chuckles at me. We climb in between the cool sheets. I stretched out on my back and before I knew it, Don had snaked his way next to me with his leg thrown over mine and his head tucked under my chin on my chest. He barely whispers, "I hope this is okay…". I say the first thing that comes to mind, "Perfect, simply perfect."


End file.
